


Fight Mean and Fuck Meaner

by Victis



Category: Resident Evil - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-26
Updated: 2016-11-26
Packaged: 2018-09-02 07:28:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8658007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Victis/pseuds/Victis
Summary: Krauser and Jake shooting the shit while fighting. A snippet from a roleplay-verse myself and my partner have fun in. There's some slight variations re: Jake's fighting prowess & Krauser's, too, but I figure that's explainable by the fact that Krauser's got parasites and specializes in CQC/crossbows and Jake's hotheaded sometimes.





	

Jake is here for a reason. 

Jake Muller is here at Krauser's flat for a reason; it's utilitarian but he doesn't care, even as he circles around a large, open area of nothing but wood flooring, eyes on the prize; one Jack Krauser, himself. He knows he really shouldn't be involved with him, but there's one key difference between him and Kennedy; **he doesn't care**. He doesn't have an emotional attachment to Krauser - they're acquaintances at best, even when they shoot the shit. Sure, he's got a fat cock that he can sit on and milk, and he's always willing to bruise Jake up when it comes to fights - and sometimes fucks - but other than that, if Jack Krauser were to step out of his life, he wouldn't care and wouldn't even think of him a few months on down the road. 

Right now, however, he's **definitely** thinking about him. He's panting; there's sweat dripping down his temple and his shirt's sticking to his chest - it takes him less than a second to peel it off so he can throw it, but Krauser doesn't give him a break - that man lunges for him without even a sound, and Jake's gotta admit, for someone so big, he moves with a fluidity that betrays a long-time combater who understands the importance of gymnastics when intermingled with a fight. 

Jake's hands come up quick and sharp - one palm **slaps** that fist to the side so instead of taking it to the face, he leans back and grabs hold of Krauser's wrist as his elbow comes up; bare feet squeak on the wood and he twists, using the momentum to bring the point of his elbow like a dagger right into the center of Jack's chest: he can hear it drive the wind out of him and there's a flicker of satisfaction, a smirk on his face-- right before that brick shithouse of a man wraps his arm right around his neck and **yanks** , hoisting Jake up off of the floor so he can dangle by his own weight - it uses the kid's body-weight against him and constricts his blood-flow all at once, even as he kicks and splutters in mid-air. 

Krauser gives him a low, rough laugh like rocks grinding next to his ear; "Had enough, Muller? You can tap out any time you want, I won't tell anybody that you lost---" 

It's exactly what spurs Jake on to scramble; to press a foot right to his thigh before he **shoves** backwards - it gives him more than enough momentum to twist in that grip, tight as it is, and his legs windmill with a strangled grunt before he hooks one right around the back of Krauser's thigh. It's hard-- but he does it with apparent ease as he uses that new-found leverage to **yank** himself out from under that big ~~fucking big~~ arm and Jake drops to the ground heavy and solid, both feet hitting the floor with a ' **thud**!'. 

"What, you think I'm gonna give up that easy?" It's hoarse-sounding, but cocky as Krauser reels around to face him, a half-smirk up on that ugly mug of his. 

"If it's anything like fucking you, then yeah-- I did." Jack knows just what to say to rile him up - and rile him up it does, eyes narrowing as Jake steps forwards only to pivot on one foot; it brings a leg up in a quick sweep and even though Krauser sees it in time to block with both forearms ~~it rocks him a little but not enough--~~ this kid isn't done yet; that kick keeps him going, lets him hop up right off the floor as he rocks that man with another hefty **slam** except this time it's his knee right to the blockade of those too-thick forearms - and it's more than enough to get Krauser to drop them with a hiss as he tries to step back. 

It doesn't quite work. When Jake lands, he catches himself with his hands and the ball of one foot and it's so slick, so easy to just sweep a leg out like he's going to take Jack's feet right the **fuck** out from under him for that little comment-- 

\--except for the fact that Krauser **jumps** back in a flip, springing over that leg like it's absolutely nothing to him as he catches himself with both hands only to push himself back even further to land on his feet with a grunt and a raise of his lip as he up-nods to Jake like a subtle compliment to the finesse that move took. He's been a fighter for a long time; ever since his childhood, so he recognizes someone with finely-honed skills when he sees them. 

"Why are you here, anyway? Shouldn't you be off cavorting with Kennedy's fag friend?" There's a low 'p'sh' from Jake as he brushes the pad of his thumb over his nose, head shaking a little bit. 

".. Nah. He's busy. Thought I'd come here and blow off some steam by kicking your **ass** \--" Muller lunges for him abruptly; he's got his fists up and the first strike he does is palm-out, like he fully intends to break Krauser's nose. The big bastard swats it aside, leaning to let it pass right on by his face even if he feels the wind before he tries to strike him - and hard - right on the side of his neck, open-handed and with the side of his palm. It's quick, but Jake is quicker, and he ducks under Jack's arm only to bring an elbow up fast and hard and mean; it collides with a cupped hand ~~damn, he's fast~~ and that brick shithouse of a man **shoves** him away. 

Jake spins with it; it was a good, heavy push, but he evens out to face him, both hands up like he fully intends on continuing-- even as they both start circling each other again with slow, meticulous steps. 

".. Not really talking with Kennedy, anymore. Things spiraled after-.. well, you know, I told you about it. I tried to talk to him, but I ended up ripping him a new asshole and now I don't-.. ..we don't---" Krauser doesn't waste much time; he can tell by the little gestures Jake is making that his mind isn't fully on the fight, and Muller's attention snaps right back to him when Jack brings his knee up to nail him right-- in the side. Jake barely catches it; it's still enough to hurt like hell, bruise even more than that, but it doesn't snap his ribs because this kid manages to cross both hands over one-another, catching the brunt of the blow on reinforced palms even if the sheer force of that blow makes him stagger back a couple steps. 

"Don't what, pretty boy?" Jack's talking back, even as they fight; he sweeps an arm up only to bring it back down in a merciless chopping motion, and Jake's on the defense now as Krauser bores into him with blow after blow, ramping up their spar as he drives Jake back bit by little bit. Muller barely manages to hold his own; he's got skill, talent, and practice under his belt, but nowhere near the vast pool of it that Krauser has and small step by small step, blow by blocked blow, Krauser manages to back him right up into a wall-- where he finally drives his fist **home** \---

... right next to Jake's head as it puts a divot right in the drywall. Krauser was lucky it was next to a stud, or he'd have a hole through the wall - but from the looks of him as he gives this kid a smile that's never quite genuine ~~it's always more of a smirk than anything, cocky and assholish just like the man who's giving it--~~ he wouldn't have cared, anyway. 

".. christ. If I didn't know better, I'd think you were trying to teach me some shit." There's a snort from that big bastard as he shakes his head; he's not moving - except closer, until they're chest to chest as too-big fingers reach up to grab his chin to give it a little shake. 

"Maybe." It's not much of an answer, but it's better than nothing-- even if Jack drags his thumb over his lips in this kind of mean, rough as hell way before his hand drops down to rest on this kid's hip as he towers over him. 

"What'd he do, start blowing you off?" There's a crinkle of Jake's features as he rubs his jaw like it's got some kinda ache in it from how hard Krauser was holding onto his face; Jack shifts and rests his forearm on the wall next to Jake's head, effectively caging him in even if the merc doesn't really feel like he's stuck at all. It's just a power-play, and Muller is more used to those than he is to waking up in the mornings, at this point. 

".. Kind of. I said some shit and I don't think he liked it; everything's-.. different. .. I'm not shacking up at their place anymore, but I have enough money to get by without his charity." There's a scoff; it bothers Jake more than he's letting on, and it's only slightly obvious when he rolls his eyes to the high heavens and folds his arms to put more space between him and Jack as he leans back against the wall. 

There's some silence as Krauser mulls that information over; he's been on-again off-again with Leon for ages, now, and he likes to think - to brag, almost - that he knows that man better than he knows himself, sometimes. It's not true, but Jack doesn't know it - he's idealized too much of him to really get how much the agent's changed, over the years. 

"Doesn't matter. Give him some time and he'll come around; you can say anything you want to him, practically **do** anything you want within reason and he'll always come back around. Kinda like a dog, in his own right." He snorts - it's happened time and time again, and Krauser knows that it's just a fact of life that Leon comes gravitating back to him no matter what happens. It was proved in spades, this time - Leon came back to him again, even if Jack didn't quite fit in his pretty 'family picture' anymore. 

"As long as you give him some alright conversation and some good dick, he'll---" 

His words halt abruptly; Jake moves quick as lightning, and even though they were just fighting, his hand is unwavering as he presses the tips of his fingers **right** up against this big bastard's throat - enough to hurt a little, enough to **threaten** , like he'll cave his throat in without a bat of his eyes. 

"Don't--.. say that. What the hell, Krauser? You think just because he **wishes** you were the same as you once were, that means you get to yank his chain and mistreat him?" He's fired up - that much is obvious by how he's talking through grit teeth, fingers poking and jabbing with each emphasized word as he talks. Jack snorts; it's low and derisive as blue eyes narrow, scars contorting a little as he gives him a look that's more of a sneer than anything. 

"You think I'm 'mistreating' him? He **likes** our fights. He likes getting roughed up, likes how I am because I can take a punch as good as I give one. He doesn't **need** to connect with me - you think he'd come back if he didn't? I give him what he wants, not what you **think** he wants. I'm trying to help you here, jesus, just wait a little and he'll come right--" --he gets cut off though, real, **real** quick. 

"He's a good man, you bastard. He might not make the best decisions all the time, but that's no excuse to **hurt him**. You wanna hurt him, you better do it far, far away from me-- because I **will** come for you with my guns out and I will put a bullet right--" another jab-- "-through--" and another-- "-your ugly **head**. He doesn't say it, but Chris has told me; told me how he needs someone who'll give back what Leon is willing to give, and you **obviously** aren't a candidate for that. You barely have emotions, much less a conscience - so I'm gonna say this once." Words hiss out of him with narrowed eyes-- as he leans up and gets good- and close-- to Krauser's face. 

"If you fuck him up, I will put you down and I will piss on your corpse. No amount of 'good dick' is going to prevent me from doing that. Leon's my friend, and you-- you're just a mediocre **fuck**." He spits it with venom-- and then he **does** spit, right down on the wood next to Krauser's feet as he shoves his way on by him, shoulder clipping this brick shithouse's own as he bowls his way right on past him. 

"I'll see you whenever-- not in the mood anymore." 

It sounds angry and pissed off and bitter as all hell, and Jake grabs his stuff without casting a look back to him. It leaves Krauser in silence as he turns, brow hawked down as he raises a hand up to rub rough fingers over old scars, fingers dipping into the divots of them as he presses down close to his lips as Jake slams the door behind him on his way out. 

"Bullshit." It gets grunted out of him in the silence and the new emptiness of that flat, that room. It's bullshit; he knows what Leon wants. 

.. or he thought he did.


End file.
